


The Stars will watch over us

by Cailean



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27915655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cailean/pseuds/Cailean
Summary: Prompt: "Fluff" - rating no higher than Mature.Raelle and Scylla meet in secret after a period of separation. It's the first day that they spend together again.Mindless fluff with a dose of very light angst and comfort.---“Um, is this seat taken?” Raelle points to the other chair at the table that is occupied with Scylla's backpack. She fidgets, her nervousness on full display for everyone to notice.When Scylla takes a moment too long to answer, just staring, Raelle speaks again,  "Can I sit down here?"Scylla shakes herself a little. “Yeah, sure. Let me move my things.” It's all very polite, almost casual. But then Scylla blurts out, “I've ordered hot chocolate.”Of course she remembers one of Raelle's small pleasures on rainy days. By her expression, it seems that Scylla was eagerly waiting to spoil her a little.“With cinnamon, by chance?” Raelle asks, smiling.Scylla nods, trying to play it cool. But her eyes are still hungry with longing. “Is there any other way it should be served?”
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73
Collections: MFSRI Winter Solstice Fic Exchange 2020





	The Stars will watch over us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RayllaEndgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayllaEndgame/gifts).



> A heartfelt thank you goes out to all who constantly boosted and motivated me, my sister and especially "Drunk!Raelle" who listened so patiently to constant whining during the writing process.  
> And the most amazing beta-reader [Jacinto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacinto/profile)!  
>   
>   
> And while you're here check out this most beautiful fanart to this story by Kalverzer. Mindblown by this! Thank you! [__Fanart!__ ](https://twitter.com/kalvzr/status/1344323715211747329)

Raelle pauses at the entrance to the cafe. Her heart is beating faster with each step and her mouth is dry, as is usual every time she's about to meet with Scylla.

It's always the same fear -- that one day, the military intelligence or some civilian operation will find out that she has continuous direct contact with a wanted Spree agent; that suspicion will arise of her increased furloughs and desire to spend time far away from base. Away from her unit, which is just as clueless as the Army, and is under the impression that she needs time alone to calm down and recharge after their harrowing experiences in combat.  
  
She fears that someday someone will follow her and find out what she's really doing. 

But she’s gone unnoticed by the Military Police up until now, most likely because she keeps saying that she needs time alone to process and recuperate, spinning half-truths about time spent hiking in solitude.

Raelle has been lucky so far, and she toes the army line while on duty. Not overtly so that it’s out of character, but enough to assure everybody that, while she’s evidently not thrilled about conscription and taking orders, she is on board and committed. Besides the few months after Scylla’s escape, there hasn’t been any special scrutiny on her behavior.

Through gossip, she knows that most of her fellow soldiers think that she’s been an unfortunate victim of Spree crimes. Raelle isn’t interested in dispelling that narrative as it affords some protection. 

And she has done her damndest to earn her free time; she’s paid her due with sweat, tears, and her own blood in service to this country. These furloughs are one of the few rights that she can use to her whim -- so long as they don't interfere with her duties, of course.

The two of them are so careful about their meetings -- making sure that they aren't seen together, that there's no possible connection between them outside of this.

Scylla faces even more obstacles. It's not like the Spree guarantee their members vacation days, after all; and Scylla spending time away from her Spree cell -- which is supposed to be her chosen family -- is always reason for skepticism. Raelle doesn't know much about how Scylla justifies her absences; it’s safer to have less information, should either of them ever be questioned. 

But despite all that has happened in the last two years, they are sure of their love. It’s not something either of them are willing to give up, even if they are trapped on opposing sides in this conflict. 

They trust each other. Implicitly.

It took them awhile to get to this point; to find each other again, to get on speaking terms, to cut through the thicket of lies and deceit that was constructed around them -- a bigger version of the same tangled mess that they built between each other. They worked hard to get past what happened between them. They’re working, so far with little success, on one day freeing themselves of their obligations to the Spree and the Military.

And Raelle knows Scylla wants the same thing that she does. A life in peace, together. 

They’re still stuck in a war they didn't start. Tied to opposite sides, both of them are still doing unspeakable things in the name of organizations that they want to be free of. Right now it’s inescapable, and they’re both too low in the hierarchy to change anything.

For now they have to lay low, bide their time. 

And they have their meetings in secret. They have a week together this time around. 

Raelle spent the majority of the morning traveling here. It’s already mid-day and the cafe bustles with lunchtime activity. Cleaning her boots and shaking off the wetness from the cold autumn drizzle, she covertly scans the interior. The dreary weather has driven people who would normally be hiking the nearby forest trails inside; it’s full of chatter and life. 

It doesn't take long for Raelle to find what she's looking for in the usual spot: a table in one of the corners, close enough to the back entrance for a quick escape.

On the table lies a blue rose. The symbol of hope, of caution, and the unattainable. 

But it's so much more than that -- it's Scylla's sign, her signifier and call to Raelle. A very deliberate reference to her family's combat charm made from a bowerbird's foot. It's a symbol for their love, their hopes and challenges and a giant thorny “fuck you” to the powers that rule over them. It does its job, charming Raelle every time she sees it. Making her giddy for the things to come.

Her steps pull her to the table. It's an unavoidable part of her journey.  
  
She tried to stop loving Scylla. Tried to keep away, to toe the line, but all it ever did was hurt them both. Raelle only ever found true happiness with Scylla. By now, she has accepted that Scylla will always be part of her life.

The only possible way forward is side by side. 

“Hey,” Raelle tries to say softly. But her voice is rough, weighed down with emotions.

“Hello.” 

Raelle fights with the cognitive dissonance that always occurs when Scylla wears the face of a stranger. Today, she’s a woman well into her thirties, curly black hair framing an elegant face. Raelle tries not to flinch or recoil, but the slight frown on the foreign face tells her that she didn't succeed. Unfamiliar brown eyes regard her curiously, though the longing within them is intimately recognizable. Raelle has to resist the urge to just drag Scylla out of here, to a place where neither of them have to hide and make her get rid of this unwanted face.

But they have roles to play: two friendly travelers meeting by chance in a crowded place before parting ways. It’s something that happens every day; a common occurrence. 

“Um, is this seat taken?” Raelle points to the other chair at the table that is occupied with Scylla's backpack. She fidgets, her nervousness on full display for everyone to notice.

When Scylla takes a moment too long to answer, just staring, Raelle speaks again, "Can I sit down here?"

Scylla shakes herself a little. “Yeah, sure. Let me move my things.” It's all very polite, almost casual. But then Scylla blurts out, “I've ordered hot chocolate.”

Of course she remembers one of Raelle's small pleasures on rainy days. By her expression, it seems that Scylla was eagerly waiting to spoil her a little. 

“With cinnamon, by chance?” Raelle asks, smiling.

Scylla nods, trying to play it cool. But her eyes are still hungry with longing. “Is there any other way it should be served?”

“Nope. Sounds great,” Raelle says, settling down on the newly-empty chair and stowing her backpack next to Scylla’s on the floor. “Uh, what's your name? I'm Raelle."

“Katie. Nice to meet you, Raelle.” There’s a familiar lilt to the way Scylla says her name, even through the foreign deep voice.

They shake hands as two strangers meeting for the first time would. It's a polite enough handhold; Raelle doesn't want to let go, but makes herself lean back before it becomes awkward. 'Katie' seems to have a similar problem -- as she eases her grip, her fingers brush over Raelle's hand, leaving hot and burning invisible trails on her skin. Raelle blushes, and they’re both brought back down to earth by the waiter arriving with the hot chocolate.

'Katie' generously gifts the hot chocolate to Raelle. She watches with an amused smile as Raelle cradles the warm steaming cup in her hands and carefully takes her first sip. The creamy sweetness spiked with the slightly woody taste of cinnamon is exactly what Raelle needed to warm up.  
  
They chat amicably for some time until Scylla decides that she has been in the cafe long enough, muttering that she's already late for her scheduled hike before wishing Raelle a nice rest of the day. She casually picks up Raelle’s backpack and makes for the door.

Reaching the threshold, Scylla slows. With a slight glance over her shoulder, she nods towards Raelle and then -- forcefully -- pushes out of the door. 

Raelle watches her leave, absentmindedly tracing the path Scylla's fingers left on her hand.

* * *

The rain stops two hours into the afternoon, making the chilly walk more bearable. Raelle’s no more than a klick away from their meeting point now, guided by the map Scylla left in the side pocket of her backpack.

They’re walking on different trails to be extra cautious. If Raelle’s reading her map correctly -- and she's sure she is, because the army trained her well -- then Scylla will arrive a little later than her. Scylla was considerate in choosing the paths to their meeting point, taking the longer one for herself. 

After they meet up, they’ll walk the last hour together to the remote cabin Scylla has secured for them.

Thinking of Scylla, Raelle smiles fondly and brushes her fingers carefully over the petals of the blue rose she has fastened to her coat. The petals are soft to the touch; velvety in their texture. The flower is still wet from the rain -- water droplets coat the petals and have collected in the center of the blossom. The water lingers on her fingertips after dipping into it. Instead of wiping it on her pants, she licks it off to taste the sweet fragrance of the flower.

With a wistful sigh, Raelle stops briefly to shift Scylla’s bag to fit more comfortably on her shoulders. After consulting the map one last time, she quickens her pace; not wanting to be separated from Scylla for any longer than absolutely necessary.

* * *

The meet-up point is at an unremarkable fork in the trail. As expected Scylla has not arrived yet, and Raelle takes the opportunity to rest underneath the foliage of a tree. Here the ground is dry despite the rain, and the leaves lining the forest floor beneath the tail of her long coat keep her protected from the cool ground. She leans against her backpack, comfortable enough. 

The rain picks up again, and even with her valiant efforts to keep awake, the steady patter of the heavy rain hitting the trees coupled with the fresh air works to lull her into a gentle sleep.

Sometime later, Raelle opens her eyes when a cool hand cradles her head, fingers gently pushing a strand of hair from her face.

Scylla is kneeling next to her, undisguised and wholly herself, blue eyes twinkling with amusement at having found Raelle deep asleep beneath a tree. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Happy to see me?”

“Hey, beautiful,” Raelle mutters. “Took you long enough to--”

Raelle is cut short by Scylla bending forward and greeting her properly with a kiss. The urgency causes their lips to connect at an awkward angle; the collision abrupt enough to make their teeth clack uncomfortably. 

But neither of them breaks the connection. It's been too long since they touched like this, and their need to be close is too great to let go so soon. Scylla straddles Raelle's outstretched legs and the kiss becomes deeper, more intense. It doesn't take them long to find a familiar rhythm.

When they breathlessly part again Scylla peppers kisses all over Raelle's face: her nose, her eyebrows, her cheeks. She nips at an earlobe and whispers, “I love you, I missed you so much.” 

“I've been waiting to do this,” Raelle says. She pulls Scylla in and hugs her tight, reveling in the feeling of having her so close. Because Scylla is actually _here_ ; no longer a dream that does a poor job at tiding Raelle over on lonely nights, shallow company for even lonelier daydreams. “Love you too.”

“Careful,” Scylla warns, pushing herself away with a grin. “You’re a bit…” she looks down at Raelle's chest pointedly, "prickly." 

Raelle’s confused for a moment before realization hits her -- the rose on her coat. 

She grins back. “Yeah, I've been told that before.”

“Luckily, I like you just the way you are,” Scylla says. And seemingly to prove that she means it she steals another kiss from Raelle's lips, blindly fumbling with the lapels of Raelle’s coat in an attempt to pull her closer. As if in afterthought, she plucks at the rose to remove it, uncaring about the thorns digging into her skin. 

Raelle deepens the kiss and helps Scylla save the flower before it gets crushed between them. In her haste she pricks herself on the stem, letting out a small yelp and nearly biting Scylla's tongue in the process.

The kiss breaks abruptly, and when Scylla raises a questioning eyebrow Raelle holds up her finger in answer with a dramatic pout, showing the damage. One fat drop of blood has pooled on her fingertip.

Scylla chuckles at first, though her look of mirth swiftly changes into an expression of incredible tenderness and affection. Raelle holds her breath as Scylla fishes a tissue packet out of one of her pockets and gently wipes at the blood. After a soft kiss to Raelle’s fingertip, Scylla hums a low Song that intermingles with the steady patter of the rain and rustling and creaking of the forest. 

The tiny stab wound vanishes and Raelle breathes again. She finds herself dizzy all at once, in awe of the gentleness of Scylla’s actions. The wound was nothing, just a small prick, but Scylla healing it makes Raelle want to show gratitude; to whisper into her ear how hot it was, how sexy her Necro songs are, how the infinitely tender look on her face makes Raelle so warm that she feels like she’s melting on the inside. The happiness of sharing Scylla’s company makes Raelle’s heart and mind sing along to the special song that only they share.

Still in a daze, Raelle tries to get herself under control as Scylla -- who has rested her hands on Raelle's thighs -- speaks up, “You're going to catch a cold sitting here, and if we stay any longer we might not make it to the cabin ‘til sundown.” She pats Raelle's shoulder then stands up, offering her hand. “Let's go.”

* * *

The two of them steal glances as they walk the trail side-by-side, each trying to satisfy their hunger for the other with smiles and wry glances. But they are far from sated. Their greeting an hour ago was just an appetizer, and the gnawing need is ever-present. As always, they’re starving for each other.

Scylla gives in first and reaches out for Raelle's hand. “Can I?”

“Can you?” Raelle echoes, playfully evading the searching hand and bumping into her side. She spins around to walk backwards, reaching out to pull Scylla along by the straps of her backpack. Scylla rolls her eyes, grabbing Raelle's hands to steer her safely on the dirt path.

“Seems like I can,” Scylla teases, helping Raelle narrowly circumvent a puddle. With the danger averted, she weaves around and tugs Raelle forward, spinning her so they can walk side-by-side again. 

She keeps hold of Raelle's hand, both of them laughing as the sun breaks through the clouds and hits the tree canopy.

The rays of light cause the colorful autumn forest to glow, and in this moment, everything feels right in the world. 

* * *

Half an hour later they’re still holding hands as they walk at a brisk pace, chatting about what has happened in their lives since their last meeting. Raelle’s damp backpack feels heavier on her shoulders, and Scylla’s started to shift her own weight a bit every few paces, hand fidgeting against Raelle’s.

“...she was never properly trained and she's so overconfident,” Scylla’s saying, recounting a humorous incident involving one of her fellow Spree members. “Tried to boil the water for spaghetti with a _seed_. You can imagine -- the water boiled, sure, but the whole thing evaporated in an explosion the next second. Spaghetti all over. On the ceiling, everywhere. We were lucky it wasn't the tomato sauce."

Raelle laughs lightly. It’s a funny visual -- Scylla covered with half-cooked noodles -- but the fidgeting is distracting her a bit. “What's going on, Scyl?” Raelle asks, after Scylla wiggles and shifts her backpack again.

Scylla continues walking, though she suddenly seems a bit apprehensive. Her face has turned very pale and she licks her lips nervously. “What do you mean?” 

Raelle pulls up their joined hands to examine Scylla’s. “Did you hurt your hand? I can fix it.”

“What?” Scylla asks through an exhale, looking relieved. 

It’s then that Raelle realizes her question must have triggered a defensive response in Scylla, bolstered by unpleasant memories. It happens sometimes for both of them. Nothing to dwell upon, but certainly something they try to be mindful about in their interactions.   
  
“I can fix it,” Raelle says again. “I’ll have you know that you’ve got one of the best Fixers on this side of the mountains at your beck and call.” She winks at Scylla.  
  
“No, no. Nothing is hurt. My arm keeps falling asleep because of the backpack,” Scylla quickly explains. “Everything’s fine.”

“Okay, _you_ fix it, then.”

Scylla shakes her head.

“Why not?”

Scylla hesitates, then nearly whispers as if a little embarrassed by her own actions. “I know this is ridiculous, but I’d have to let go of your hand.”

“Oh…” Oh, indeed. It's hard to let go with so little time together; of course Scylla wants to savor every moment. “You’re so sweet, but I’m not going anywhere. I'll be right by your side.”

“I just want to hold your hand,” Scylla says, refusing to let go. “It's not that far now anyway. My arm will be fine.”

And Raelle feels elated that Scylla desires her touch so much. But if the price for the touch is discomfort, then that seems silly. 

She walks a step closer and leans her head against Scylla's arm. “You don't have to suffer through discomfort, Scyl.”

“I know. But this,” Scylla lifts their joined hands and kisses Raelle's knuckles, “is more important to me than some light discomfort.”

Raelle pulls their hands towards her and mirrors Scylla, kissing the back of her hand. “But your comfort is important to _me_.”

Scylla sighs and meets Raelle’s eyes. “You’re all that matters to me. Every second, every minute is something to treasure. I have people I know and work with among the Spree, but none are my confidantes or friends. Not like they used to be. I know you keep your Unit at a distance, too, but you do _have_ them.”

She pauses and shakes her head lightly. “I know it’s stupid, but just let me have this. I _need_ this. Please?”

Raelle sighs, nodding. They’ve been over this before; she knows how lonely Scylla is when they’re apart. The Spree is a network for Scylla, sure, but it’s no longer her home, or her place of _support_. 

And Scylla’s right -- Raelle has her Unit, even if she does keep them at arm's length.

“Alright,” Raelle says, acquiescing. “What can I do to help?”

She watches Scylla's face closely. It’s obvious that Scylla is conflicted, fighting her instinct to close herself off. Her whole body is rigid and her steps are almost mechanical for a few seconds. 

Then something changes; not surrender, but acceptance. “Okay. Maybe you can take off the sleeping bag?”

“With one hand? You’re not making this easy.”

“I never do,” Scylla says wistfully, but there’s a sparkle of humor in her eyes. She stops walking, regarding Raelle expectantly.

Raelle steals another kiss from Scylla and goes to work, quickly detaching the sleeping bag from the top of Scylla's backpack. One-handed it's more difficult than it should be, but Raelle doesn't mind. If this is what Scylla needs, she's more than happy to indulge her (even if it makes things a bit complicated). 

And Scylla was right -- the sleeping bag was hanging at an odd angle. It's an older heavy military-issue model, easy to find in surplus stores.  
  
Once it’s off Scylla sighs, relieved, and reaches for it with her free hand. But Raelle is quick to hold it out of her girlfriend's reach.

“You won’t give it back to me?”

“Let me do this for you,” Raelle says, getting a feel for the weight of the sleeping bag in her hand. “You’re more important to me than some light discomfort.” It’s not really a burden, and Raelle repeating Scylla's own words back to her is a reminder that their feelings are mutual in every way. They’re in this together, even in the small things.

Scylla nods and they continue walking, making their way down the trail in comfortable silence.

* * *

They find the cabin with no further complications. A small and narrow path leads down to where it’s situated in a secluded valley; due to the uneven terrain they have to let go of one another’s hands for their own safety, to Scylla’s pouting dismay.

There's still enough daylight for them to inspect the single-room cabin and make it feel like home for the duration of their stay. Only the bare necessities are stocked: pots and pans, some condiments, basic tools, lanterns; there’s enough firewood to last them the night, though they’ll have to chop some more tomorrow.

As always, Raelle marvels at the easy rhythm they fall into while dividing up labor. Raelle cleans the cabin inside: sweeping with a broom, preparing the kitchen area, and storing the food they brought with them. Scylla gets water from the well, carries enough firewood inside for the night and the morning, and prepares to heat water in one of the larger pots on the wood stove. 

Every time they pass each other they exchange fleeting touches, staying connected mostly by sight. They’re both tired and the work takes a bit longer than it should, but they aren't in any hurry tonight. 

The cabin has a separate washroom with a manual shower, requiring the attached canister to be filled with hot water for it to work. It’s a clever design that affords them a small luxury out here in the middle of nowhere, and one that they have every intention of taking advantage of later.

They work together to make their bed. Scylla brought a sheet to cover the mattress, and they neatly unroll their sleeping bags atop it. With the added blankets and pillows borrowed from the cabin linen cupboards, they manage to make the arrangement quite cozy.  
  
There’s a deeply satisfying sense of perfection in this simplicity and domesticity.

* * *

Later, they're eating home-made chicken noodle soup in comfortable silence. It's delicious and warms them up after spending the majority of the day walking in the cold rain. The only sounds during dinner are the clangs of spoons on bowls, the rustling of leaves in the wind outside, the crackling of fire in the wood oven, and the barely audible sound of Raelle's thumb stroking over Scylla's hand. They’re both exhausted from the journey. 

Now that their work is done, they’re able to truly relax in the peaceful atmosphere of the evening.

The pressing need and nearly frantic thrill of their reunion from earlier is gone, replaced by an anticipation that’s slowly building out of the calm security that their love supplies. The remnants of their meal are quickly cleared away, and soon there's nothing else left to do but enjoy each other’s company.

“Should we take that shower now?” Raelle asks, leaning back into Scylla's embrace.

Scylla hums approvingly. “I was hoping you'd join me.”

“Of course.” Raelle turns her head so she can look into Scylla’s eyes. “I have plans for us in that shower,” she adds, flashing a cheeky grin.

“Raelle Collar,” Scylla mutters, smiling back, “What's going on in your head?”

“You mean right now?” 

Scylla nods.

“Mostly you. Naked.” 

“Hmm, I like the way your mind works,” Scylla says, nuzzling into Raelle's neck and pressing a kiss there. She pulls Raelle in for a tight hug, then lets her go and gets to her feet, keeping eye contact. 

Raelle tilts her head, watching with interest for a few moments before she catches on and grips the edge of the table in anticipation. 

_Oh_. 

Scylla is about to strip for her. 

Kneeling down, Scylla begins to unlace her boots; there's nothing conventionally sexy about it, but her fingers are nimble, untying with care. Raelle can’t help but think of the times those dexterous hands have been used for _other_ things. 

All considered, it's the hottest thing she's seen in a long time.

Scylla stands up, unbuckles her belt and pulls off her pants, revealing her freckle-covered legs.

“Come here, please,” Raelle croaks, mouth dry.

Scylla steps up and straddles Raelle's lap so they’re face to face. Raelle loses her train of thought for a long moment when she touches Scylla's soft thighs and strokes them lightly, and Scylla's response is to slide even closer, kissing Raelle's neck again. 

“Hey, hey. Ease off for a minute,” Raelle says, remembering what she initially wanted to do. “Let me help you.” 

Scylla pouts and mumbles something in protest under her breath, so faint that Raelle barely makes it out: “That's no fun!”

“We can _make_ it fun. Let me help you undress.”

“Fine.” Scylla backs up and waits, and it’s then that Raelle pays attention to what she’s wearing.

“You know,” Raelle starts, running her hand over the fabric, “this sweater is... very familiar to me."

“I borrowed it from someone.”

“ _Borrowed_ ,” Raelle deadpans, putting her hands underneath the sweater. She makes sure to stroke Scylla's skin when she lifts it up and over her head.

“Yes, borrowed.” Scylla's voice is muffled until their combined effort untangles her from the garment. “I'll give it back. Eventually.” Scylla leans forward, resting her head on Raelle's shoulder so she has easy access to Scylla's bra clasp.

“When?”  
  
Scylla exhales heavy into her shoulder, clearly enjoying Raelle's soothing hands stroking her back, wiggling a bit to get Raelle to touch all the hard-to-reach places.

“When I get another in exchange,” Scylla replies. “Having your sweater with me is a comfort. I really, really like the way you smell." She sniffs dramatically. “Or, usually…”

Raelle stops her ministrations. “Wha…?” She shoves Scylla lightly. “That’s just rude.”

Scylla looks up, mischief sparkling in her eyes, and kisses Raelle’s forehead. “C’mon, I’m not at my best either. We both need that shower.”

With that she leaps up, throws her panties at Raelle, and runs bucknaked into the bathroom, laughing.

In her haste to follow Raelle almost knocks over the vase on the table that holds her rose. She's much too overdressed; as quickly as she can, she rids herself of her clothing.

“Shit! Wait up!” Hopping on one foot, she tries to remove her shoes and nearly faceplants, caught up in her half-undone pants. It all takes too long and her impatience makes a mess of things. ”No fair!” 

When Raelle undresses and finally reaches the bathroom -- her continued cursing sounding over Scylla's loud laughter -- she leans against the doorframe, watching Scylla rinse herself off. Scylla makes a show of a thorough cleaning and it sparks the hunger in Raelle again. The openness and vulnerability is just for her. 

Usually it takes Scylla a little while to adjust, to cease the hiding and deflection of any attention that's directed at her. But here she is, naked and openly on display. There's no greater gift Raelle could ever receive.

She’s enjoying the sight so much that she does a double-take when she notices that the warm water in the canister is already two-thirds gone. She has to stop ogling her beautiful girlfriend if she wants to get clean without enduring freezing cold water tonight.

Raelle shakes her head and enters the shower. “You,” she accuses, steering Scylla out of the way of the water, “are not only stealing my sweater--“ 

“Borrowing,” Scylla corrects her.

“ _Stealing_ my--”

“Borrowing,” Scylla insists with a smirk.

“Fine. _Borrowing_ my sweater," Raelle relents, “but you’re also stealing all the hot water!”

“I'm more than willing to share," Scylla says, standing so close to Raelle that she can feel the heat radiating off of her skin. She softly bumps Raelle's nose with her own. “Let me prove it to you.”

Raelle hands the soap to Scylla, who seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself. Her hands roam over Raelle, quickly at first to get the day's sweat and grime off, then slower, taking her sweet time admiring the curves of Raelle's lithe body beneath her hands. 

Scylla lingers on every sensitive area, stroking over her thighs and chest, paying special attention to her breasts, massaging her shoulders. Raelle feels the power pulsing between them; it's addictive, insistent, and Scylla soon succumbs to it, softly biting Raelle's shoulder and soothing the spot with a soft kiss. 

Raelle groans, reveling in the wonderful feeling of being taken care of in such an intimate way.

Then the water stops -- a quick check confirms that the canister is empty. 

But there's an additional full bucket on the floor of the shower, and Scylla abruptly jerks away to grab it before dumping the entirety of the freezing water over Raelle, rinsing the last bits of soap off. 

“Ahh!” Raelle yelps, slipping a bit in her hurry to back away. “You’re impossible! Warn me next time!”

“What’re you going to do about it?” Scylla challenges, eyes twinkling.

Raelle shakes her head with a grin, and her answer comes easily: “Everything you want me to.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Raelle has Scylla’s front gently pinned against the wall. There are goosebumps all over Scylla’s back where Raelle is just barely touching her, spanning the space between the multitude of freckles. As she strokes Scylla’s sensitive sides and thighs Raelle can feel the muscles twitching beneath her skin. 

Scylla allows it without any protest. Her chest is heaving, the side of her face pressed against the wall, eyes closed and her mouth half open.  
  
With Scylla’s experiences during her imprisonment it’s difficult for her to derive pleasure from giving up control -- in the past it has triggered bad memories or even panic, so Raelle treads lightly; careful not to accidentally venture outside the established boundary of trust and safety where they can enjoy being vulnerable with each other.  
  
Between placing kisses on Scylla’s shoulder blades, she softly asks: “Are you ok? Can I go on?”

Raelle's heart beats faster as she waits for Scylla to answer -- clearly caught up in the feeling of Raelle’s warm hands moving against her skin.  
  
“Yes, please,” Scylla whispers, guiding one of Raelle's hands to her stomach. “Move with me.”  
  
Raelle slips her thigh between Scylla’s legs and gets rewarded with unabashed moans as both of her hands follow the curves of Scylla’s body to explore her front. Leaning back into Raelle’s arms, Scylla gives herself over to her roaming hands. 

The ecstatic sounds of Scylla’s moans are driving Raelle wild with desire; the feeling of their physical connection is like an electric current running between them. Charged, exciting.  
  
It doesn’t take long for Scylla to start to tense up, the sounds emerging from her throat becoming more urgent. Raelle whispers soft words of encouragement and moves her hands faster at Scylla’s insistence.  
  
Scylla finally crests the peak of it all with a relieved happy laugh -- as the built up tension leaves her body she collapses fully, satisfied and smiling, into Raelle’s strong arms.  
  
“Happy?” Raelle asks, marveling at the sight of Scylla’s flushed, gently trembling body and the adoring look on her face.  
  
Scylla grins. “Very!” she answers, sluggishly cupping Raelle’s face and pulling her down for a sweet and slow kiss that grows deeper and more passionate as the seconds pass.

* * *

Hours later and Raelle is wide awake in bed, physically exhausted after they made love repeatedly well into the night. Scylla is in her arms, deep asleep with her head resting on Raelle's chest. 

In the dim light of the lantern they left burning the hickeys on Scylla’s neck are visible, and Raelle idly traces over them as she ruminates, deep in thought about the day. In her sleep, Scylla looks peaceful: younger than she does in the waking hours, unburdened by her experiences; innocent. 

Raelle aches to protect her. Pulling her in closer, she makes sure to tuck Scylla in tight into their shared sleeping bag, then covers them both with more blankets. 

After that, it doesn't take long for Raelle to fall asleep.  
  


* * *

Raelle wakes to a chill on the skin of her arms. Wanting to snuggle up, her hands reach for Scylla but come up empty. 

Confused, she sits up and scans the room. In the oven a fire is crackling -- Scylla must have woke when the dying fire inside was no longer strong enough to fight the cold. 

Over at the kitchen table and sitting in the shadows is Scylla, naked despite the chill in the air. The vase with the rose is right in front of her, and she’s staring at it with a somber expression on her face, chin resting on her arms atop the table.

Raelle pulls on a pair of socks and wraps herself in a blanket, then pads over through the blueish dark. Scylla looks up and quickly swipes at the tears on her face.

“Hey,” Raelle whispers in a soothing tone, sitting down beside her. Scylla’s bare skin is cold to the touch, and when Raelle opens her arms to wrap her up in the blanket, she doesn’t move. “Talk to me.”

“I'm sorry. Didn't want to wake you.”

“I'm always here for you. Wake me.”

Scylla sniffs and relaxes into Raelle’s arms, hesitating for nearly a minute before she speaks. “It's just too much sometimes,” she says quietly. “Spending time with you is so... wonderful. It’s the only time I feel like I can really be _me_.” 

She hesitates, shaking her head lightly. “I don’t think I even knew who I was before we met, or that I ever cared to find out. You make me want to _know_ me. Be better. But when we’re together, it's always over too soon and we never know when we’ll see each other again.”

Scylla scoffs bitterly. “That is, if we do at all. What if something happens and you just don’t come back, one day? What if I never sleep next to you again, or hear you say my name when you need me or just... hold your hand and feel you?” 

There are tears running down Scylla's face again, but she's no longer hiding them.  
  
“Fuck, I’m so afraid of that,” she whispers. “It hurts so much, Raelle. I just want us to be together and not have to keep it a secret from anyone. I’m tired of it.”   
  
“One day…” Raelle mutters, feeling a bit helpless. All she can do is comfort Scylla; hold her tight and stroke her hair, lightly scratching her head until the tears stop.

Scylla sighs heavily. 

“Tonight is ours, Scyl. The stars will watch over us,” Raelle says softly. “I’ll always come back to you.”

Raelle presses a kiss against Scylla’s temple, lingering there for a few moments with her eyes closed. With a soft, comforting hum low in her throat, she gets to her feet and sweeps Scylla up into her arms in a bridal carry, blanket and all. 

And as Raelle quietly walks back to their warm bed, her steps traced by small _creaks_ in the weathered hardwood, she feels Scylla smile softly against her jaw.

They fall asleep in minutes, wrapped up in each other.  
  
The END

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be overjoyed if you could leave some feedback. It helps me writing more and better stories.


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